


Secrets Lost, Love Gained

by ReticentGrace



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hermann hates emotions, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mind Meld, Nosy Newton, Nosy Newton needs to be a widely used tag, Saving the World, Science Boyfriends, Secrets, Speculation, The Drift (Pacific Rim), Worry, all kinds of hugs, emotions are hard, noncanon backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReticentGrace/pseuds/ReticentGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to hide things in the drift. It's even harder to be forced to face them when they're found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets Lost, Love Gained

**Author's Note:**

> This is just for-fun speculation out of my cracky head-cannon machine, alright? I don't necessarily believe either of them have what they have in this story; i'm not forcing anyone to believe in circumstance/mental handicaps/etc. 
> 
> It's just fun to imagine, damnit!! AAAAAH DON'T STIFLE ME!!!! (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

“You never told me.”

Those were the first words past your lips as soon as we were alone together. When the celebration died down and the klaxons stopped ringing out through the Shatterdome...when the masses were don't celebrating because they were too exhausted to keep it up. You murmured it so damnably _softly_ , almost apologetically, and my mind raced as I tried to figure out what, exactly, you'd found out- what secret you'd stumbled clumsily onto in they few moments we'd drifted, minds wound together as tightly as strands of DNA. There were so many things I didn't WANT you to have found- memories and traumas, fears and feelings...desires, thoughts, flaws...and the way you looked at me had me sitting still, completely unable to run.

You looked like a little kid in the doorway, nervous and small; you were clutching the beer you hadn't finished between your tattooed hands like a security blanket, and your eyes were focused on a bit of moisture on the rim; pigeon-toed and frowning...nervous, insecure. Your face and your body-language had always been so _open_ ; I envied you that, but I never thought that telling you would have made any sense. You wouldn't have understood- no one ever had before, and even if you'd tried everything I'd worked so hard on would have fallen apart in front of me. All I could do was keep staring at my book, curling and uncurling a dog-ear in the corner of the page; the methodical motion calmed me enough to talk, and I valiantly resisted the urge to pace, or scribble, or stutter, or start breathing in patterns...

...because I knew before I even asked what it is you'd found. Our minds were one, still were in a way. I knew instantly what would upset you the most to discover...even if it had been the one thing I'd hoped you wouldn't have found.

“I...I don't know what you're talking about. I've shared everything relevant with you-” -and I stuttered anyway, cursing myself internally afterward. The slip made you worry MORE, and you stepped closer, eying the door behind you as if you thought I'd bolt at a moment's notice. I wanted to, but some small part of me (either pride or fear) didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing how much I'd wanted to run away. I hadn't been expecting your hand to fall onto mine, though...and I hadn't expected to flinch as if I'd been hit; you hadn't expected it either, but you didn't let go. A tremble slid down my spine when my one comforting, repetitive action was taken away, but I didn't move, barely heard you, even though you were so close that I could see every bit of tattooing and smell every bit of ink and salt, of liquor and bad cologne.

“Can it, Herm- you _know_ what I'm talking about, and I know you know. We were in each-other's heads for chrissakes! I just...why? Why not tell me something so important?”

You cocked your head and your frown only deepened, and it was so, SO hard to get mad; to be upset that my escape is blocked, or that my hand was being forced still...upset that you just wouldn't leave it be. I knew you as well as you knew me, though- you wouldn't let it go, and I felt cornered. I glared upwards, digging my nails into the page, and I snapped. I hoped, like a wounded animal, that my anger would scare you away.

“It's none of your bloody business, that's why! It's none of your bloody business what's WRONG with my head! I'm tired of being treated like some sort of _lamed animal_ , Newton- I'm tired of being considered Less, or Strange, or handled like I'm make of Glass, so no. No, I didn't think it was important, because I think that it's a curse!”

I wondered why my ears were ringing...I wondered why my eyes were wet. For a fleeting instant some horrified part of me wondered if they're back- the Kaiju...the monsters I should fear instead of myself...but I knew that they weren't. I realized that I'd screamed- I realized that I'd stood up, and that you hadn't let go of my hand...because my eyes were wet. Because I was crying. When you stepped closer and took me in your arms I worried that I would flinch, but you were so careful...you were so careful that I fell like a building knocked over by a careless Kaiju. I fell into your arms with a shudder, with a sob, and you held me so tightly that I knew I would never fall again.

I cried into your stupid, wrongly-buttoned, gaudy cotton dress-shirt, and you hushed me. You set my cane aside and ran your deft fingers through soft hair, and I thought that if I tried hard enough I might have been able to feel every single ridge of your finger-prints...to know it was you so intimately...but the thought was fleeting, and so was my attention- so I cried. I cried until I was out of tears, and when I was out of tears I rested...I rested, and listened, and when you spoke your words were as beautiful as you were. Words I'd wanted to hear for most of my life, that I'd never heard from anyone. From friends, from parents, from lovers...no. Only from you. Only from you, and I should have known, but years of fears and the scale of my scars had left me far from ever hoping. Far from ever expecting that anyone would know how to say what I'd needed to hear said.

“...You're not. Lamed, or...or wrong. Or bad. It's not a death sentence. Autism, I mean. It's not a curse, or a disease...it's just...you. It's just you, and...it doesn't change how I feel about you. It doesn't. And...um...you...you know how I feel. I know you saw it...so...it is. My business, I mean. It's my business, because I care. Because I love you. This just helps me know how to love you _better_...nothing more, nothing less. Alright?”

Somehow, the fact that your words were so much less eloquent than I'd dreamt...that made it all the better. That made sure that I knew- that I knew that you were real, and not my subconscious making up dreams...hoping for things that were far beyond me. Loved, though- you loved me. I had felt it, I had known, but to hear it was so much more than knowing, and I barely dared move, dared breathe, dared even blink against you for fear that I'd break the spell and wake up, alone and surrounded by papers and numbers...'the words of God'.

They weren't, though. I new that now- I'd lost what little faith in 'God' that I'd had during the years he or she or it had sat by idly while our civilization fell to pieces around us, ignoring every cry for help and every single prayer. It had been hard to believe in God to begin with- trusting someone, something that I couldn't see, or touch...that I couldn't take apart and reassemble and settle into neat, orderly little lines...but it was one of the many things I'd done, pretended to do...something that make people more comfortable around me. Normal people believed in imaginary things. Normal people didn't take things apart and put them back together.

The lights in the lab seemed dimmer, when I turned my cheek against your wet shirt and stared out over years of paperwork, files, and surgical notes. Years of carefully made-up shields that you'd knocked down...but at least I could see you. At least I could know you, and touch you, and you could know me. Maybe love was close to God- if I could have you, I could have faith, even if I barely believed that I had you at all. You were still holding me, though; your fingers were rubbing soft circles in the back of my tense neck, and it felt like early mornings and warm coals against my skin. My voice was soft and wet, tight, but I still managed it, even if you only snorted at me in response.

“...Didn't I tell you not to call me Herm? I swear, you're...impossible. You're impossible and nosy, rude, loud, pushy, and...I love you. I love you to death, but you don't know- you don't _understand_. How many times I've been pushed away or cast aside, and...no one cared, here. As long as we kept on saving the world, being 'rock stars'...no one cared if I had a note in a medical record that they were too busy fighting monsters to read. For the first time in my life I felt normal, and wanted,” I tried to explain, but my words were lost and my hands curled up, balling in your shirt, pressing against the steady rise and fall of the air in your chest. I swallowed and tried to find strength to continue, but...you took the chance away from me.

You stole my thunder (as usual) when you lifted my chin with those magical fingertips and wiped away my tears. When you smiled like a boy with a full Christmas tree, shook your head, and wrinkled your eyes up, looking at me like I should have known all along. When your lips sealed over mine, I shuddered; when my eyes closed and my knees went weak, you held me up and hummed in the back of your throat, pushing your warmth and love and life into me until I was dizzy and desperate for air.

You pulled away and shook your head. You smiled...and for the first time I could remember, I think I may have smiled back, because I knew the words before you said them. I heard them ring across the tenuous bond between us, and I knew that I would never be cast aside. Not by you...never by you. Your words were the words of God, then, and I think that I finally may have had faith-

-even if it was only in one person. Even if it was only in you.

“I don't want normal, dumbass. I want _you_. Bumps and bruises...scars and secrets. Just you. Always just you. Okay?”

You held me tighter, and I held back. I whispered the last word you said against you, repeating it like a mantra...a prayer to a savior; the savior of my heart. Okay. We were going to be okay...and we didn't let go of one another until the lights in the hallways of the Shatterdome were out; until the noise of celebration and revelation died down to murmurs, to whispers...to nothing. The only light left was in our little world- in our lab...in between us, and that was the only light we needed...that was what we'd need to go on, now that the world had ended and begun again. We had all we needed.

My secrets were lost, but love had been gained in return...and I could live with that.

I could live with you.


End file.
